Thanks, Dad.

Yesterday I spent two painstaking hours at Ikea agonizing over what furniture to purchase to furnish my first (very, very first) apartment on my own. A few years ago I would have bought whatever was cheapest and called it a day. But now I'm in my mid-twenties and have to take several things into consideration that I didn't when I was in college. First, I don't want my apartment to look like a college kid's; full of hand-me-downs and cheap Ikea crap. Second, there's no one giving me hand-me-downs anymore so these purchases have to last me several years. Third, I'd like my living space to look cohesive. I think I accomplished that. I left Ikea exhausted, but proud with visions of an adorable, urban studio floating in my head.

Today my new furniture arrived and the reality of making Ikea purchases sunk it; you have to assemble it all with the crazy tools and supplies they provide. I started to get nervous, what if I screwed up my new furniture and wasted my time and money on things I couldn't even use? My nervousness quickly faded when I remembered that I was fully capable of accomplishing this task. Thanks to lots of practical advice from dear old Dad over the years, I am actually pretty handy (if I do say so myself). I often pretend not to be or forget that I am until faced with a challenge. I know my way around a tool box and even have a few tools of my own that I like to keep around. Luckily, my dad also taught me to read directions first (I know, strange for a man), which is key when assembling Ikea products.

It took several hours, but I totally handled that futon, desk and kitchen table. In fact, I felt so confident that I even hung a few pictures. Afterwards I admired my handy work and attempted to take a nap on my new futon because dang was I tired. Seriously, assembling and moving all that furniture can really take it out of ya.

**My apologies for not having pictures of said furniture, but I can't find the cord for my camera. I appreciate your patience and will have pictures up soon.

Heartache By Proxy

The better part of my life I have suffered from sympathy pains. Someone talks about having a headache and suddenly I have one. When I was 10 and went to summer camp with a friend and she got sick (homesick really), I got sick too. But where this is most evident is when it comes to friends or family going through heartbreak.

Now I"ll be honest, this could be because I'm still slightly biased against love, but I don't really think that is the whole story. My heart genuinely aches when I hear about relationships breaking up, especially when it was long term. I suddenly find myself in the mind of the heartbroken and without warning I'm feeling nauseous and forlorn. My stomach is uneasy for days and I don't sleep well. I imagine how that person must be feeling. I begin to feel like I am experiencing their loneliness and fear as they try to figure out where to go from here; how they will put their life back together. I fight back tears thinking about it on my own. In some extreme cases I have cried outright. I can't help it. I wish I could. I'm sure this can't be a healthy habit.

When it comes right down to it, if I'm brutally honest, I'm not sure that it is me actually experiencing their pain or if it is me simply mourning the loss of love. Deep down, I truly want to believe that love does exist and every time a seemingly loving relationship breaks up so does my hope for love. It seems as though the universe anticipates when I'm almost ready to open up my own heart and it busts up someone else's just to keep me in my place. Just to keep me on the wrong side of optimism.

Revelation Revisited

I wrote a few months ago about how terrible I am with money and how I was going to make my own personal budget cuts. And I did. And it worked. For a little while. I quickly went back to my old spending habits, much to my own detriment. Now, being unemployed for the last few months and trying to find an apartment and job it has really hit home how much I suck with money. I have a closet (well, now several plastic bins) full of lovely clothes and shoes, but really all those have gotten me are huge credit card bills. It hit me like a ton of bricks today while talking to my mum that if I don't start getting my shit together I will spend the rest of my life in debt. I live way outside of my means. I shop as if it were my job, and I can't even justify it by saying I'm a particularly thrifty shopper. I love to spend money, so I spend money I don't have.

How did this revelation suddenly revisit me? I want to live in a nice apartment, in a nice part of the city. Nice apartments in nice parts of the city cost money and landlords want to know that you can pay. For my own sanity and satisfaction I am not very willing to compromise my nice apartment, which means that something has to give.

So, my friends, what does this mean for me? It means no more store credit cards. I am about $80 away from having my store cards paid off and then they will be ceremoniously cut up and discarded. Actually, I only have two, but that is not the point. Then we tackle the biggins, the "regular" credit cards. I don't really want to get into specific here, but there are 3 and their balances are rather sizable. The plan is to get down to one with a small balance. I know I shouldn't have any balance at all, but that just isn't realistic right now.

How do I accomplish this? I'm not entirely sure of my plan of action, but I know it involves getting a job as soon as I can after my apartment and saving this shit out of the money I make there. My student loans should be enough to pay rent and bills, so any money I make at a job will need to go towards paying off my debts. This obviously also means an end to the era of "shop like there's no tomorrow". It means only buying things that are necessities. It means a more strict definition of what a necessity is. It means starting to be a grown up.

Stay tuned.

Turn and Face the Strange Ch-Cha-Changes

Leaving my Grandma's house two weeks ago David Bowie's Changes happened to be playing on the only station in the La Crosse area I can stand to listen to. I found it extremely apropos and when I heard it again today it got me to thinking about what a different direction I have decided to go.

A year ago I was searching for a job I didn't want to stay in a city I didn't like. I was mourning (again) the loss of my life in London and trying to find a way to reconcile with my friends there and myself. I was trying to look for the greener grass while being stuck in the desert. I was allowing life to happen to me.

Today I am in a city I am eager to get to know and I am excited about my prospects here. I still find myself homesick for London on an almost daily basis, but I have forgiven myself for not making it back (yet). I am about to take the first step on the road of the rest of my life, and I'm anxious to see what lies ahead. I am no longer a bystander of my own life; I am an active participant.

Looks Like We Made It After All

Not back into writing mode yet as I've just dropped off the family at the airport and have yet to come even close to unpacking or situating myself here in Portland. However, I'm here and I'm happy. I'm also seriously contemplating the purchase of a home, but that might be a tad unrealistic at this juncture. I just can't bare the thought of paying rent to someone else. Especially if that someone else is anything like my last landlord or is the owner of some sad one bedroom apartment. Hendrix and I need space. We need room to stretch out our legs and store all our stuff. We need a backyard where we can hangout and enjoy the sunshine.

But housing isn't cheap here in PDX and there's no way anyone's giving this lady a mortgage. Hmph. I'll search anyway because you never know. Stay tuned.

Today Is...

my last day at home. Leaving will be rather bittersweet. I have learned to see the good in where I come from; to love La Crosse for what it is instead of complaining about what it isn't. I have been blessed to spend so much time with my loved ones. I have enjoyed a more than mild Wisconsin summer, a nice retreat from the desert. I have laughed...a lot. I have spent so much time with one of my oldest friends that I wonder if I should feel guilty. I have found a new hobby. There were moments when I thought I might lose my mind, but in the end I can't imagine a better way to have spent the second half of my summer. Thank you, my wonderful Wisconsinites, I love you.

I'm Gonna Get Married

Someday.

My entire adult life I've struggled with the fight for my need for independence/fear of commitment/free spirit versus my desire to have a traditional life with a husband and kids. I'll be honest, the older I get the quieter my biological clock seems to get, but the stronger my desire for partnership seems to grow. I'd be lying if I didn't say that there are days when the loneliness is palpable. I love my girlfriends, they are my strength and support, but with so many of them being attached it forces me to reflect on my own singledom.

Aside from what might be the obvious reasons (being the third wheel gets old, even with the best of couples), here are some of the reasons that I have determined I will one day get married:

Simon and Garfunkel's America I've been in love with this song since I was 17. The opening line is so poignant for me, "let us be lovers we'll marry our fortunes together". I want to be Kathy. I want to travel around America on a Greyhound and play games with the faces. I want to look for America with someone who understands the importance and meaning of this song to me.

Coffee and Newspaper I make a pretty killer cup of coffee. I enjoy drinking said coffee while reading the newspaper. It would be nice to have someone (besides my awesome Grams) to make coffee for and discuss the daily news with.

Traveling I have been to some of the most romantic cities in the world (Paris, Prague, Florence), alone (well, with my family or friends, but still...). I've flown half way around the world, alone. I've seen and done so many amazing things, but haven't had anyone to share it all with me. I want someone to hold my hand as the plane takes off. I want someone's shoulder to sleep on during those long flights. I want someone to walk through the streets of Paris with and have other people be totally disgusted by how in love we are. And maybe for those same people to think we're French.

My baby need a daddy Hendrix loves boys; she loves male attention. I'm not sure where she gets it because it certainly isn't from me. I know it sounds silly but I want a slew of pups and it would be real nice to have someone to walk them with me and help name them.

Cooking for Two I really enjoy cooking, but it gets depressing cooking for one. Not just because then you have to do all the clean up, but also because you're eating leftovers for days. I want someone to enjoy my cooking and wash my damn dishes.

Dream Wedding As cynical as I am, I'm still like every other girl and have been dreaming about my wedding since I was a little girl. I think I've just about got it right in my head...except for the groom part. Minor detail.

Make a House a Home The one thing I want almost as much as someone to share my life with is a house. Maybe even a little more, but Jill tells me I have to have a husband to get a house. Le sigh. But seriously, I really really really really and really want a house. A nice old house that needs a little bit of work. Someplace that is older than me with a big front porch and a back porch. Shoot, this is my fantasy, it's gonna have a wrap around porch. It'll have loads of character and we'll fill it with vintage furniture that is as eclectic as we are. We'll collect odds and ends on our travels and have a story for every rad accessory we have. Oh man, I'd get married tomorrow if he came with a house.

Happiness is... being married to your best friend. And that's exactly what I want, so that someday I can hang my Gram's magnet on my fridge.

I'll agree, this all sounds a little Hollywood, a little clique, a little unrealistic. However, I think I deserve it, and at the end of the day all I really want is someone to hold my hand. The way my grandpa used to hold my grandma's in church when he thought no one else was looking. Because when all is said and done, it comes down to the simple things...someone to sit with in church and hold your hand after 50+ years of marriage. Better get crackin'.